Burning Brighter
by girlonfiree
Summary: Before she was the girl on fire, Katniss was simply the girl Peeta loved. The story of a girl and a boy who grew up to mean so much more than just two best friends from District 12. AU.
1. The Buttercup Sundress

I've written at least 7 more chapters of this story so far. I'm a little stuck on _'The Last Catastrophe', _and this kind of just came to me. Within about two weeks, I wrote a solid 12 pages and over 9,000+ words for this story. I've worked harder on this than I have for any other story I've written, and to be quite honest with you guys I feel quite apprehensive about posting it. Something about it just feels so intimate to me, between the time I spent on it and the excitement I felt every time I sat down to write more of it. It's like my baby, so I hope you guys will love it as much as I do.

This was originally a one-shot, but the sheer length of this story so far in addition to many other things prompted me to split it up into seperate chapters, which is why this is so short. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

"Peeta!"

The young girl calls from across the schoolyard. He turns to watch her running over to him, her braids bouncing against her back, the hem of her skirt fluttering as she quickly makes her way over to him.

"Peeta, look at what my daddy got me!" she yells, twirling around and around in front of him. He smiles, the hem of her buttercup yellow dress fanning out all around her legs. "He bought it from the dress making shop in town, just for me! Isn't it pretty, Peeta?"

The young boy observes his best friend for a few moments. The dress was lovely, yes, with it's small cap sleeves and delicate trim along the hems – but not quite as lovely as her. So when he speaks, only he knows what he's truly talking about.

"Yes, it's very beautiful, Katniss."

She smiles, a wide, broad smile that Peeta can't help but return. She grabs his hand and begins to pull him along with her.

"Come on, let's go, let's go! My daddy has a surprise for you, too!"

The two glowing children run, rosy-cheeked and laughing, to her home. When they arrive, her mother is on the small front porch, pruning flowers to put into a vase with Katniss' baby sister, Primrose. As Katniss and Peeta descend the steps, her mother greets them with a warm smile, and Prim greets them with a lilting giggle. With quick kisses to their cheeks, the two eagerly make their way inside and find Katniss' father sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of something cool and a weathered, old newspaper in his hands.

"Ah, there they are!" the older man booms in his deep voice, the crinkles beside his eyes showing when he smiled. Mr. Everdeen wraps Katniss in a hug, spinning her around as she laughs, her dress fluttering around her. Then he turns to Peeta, and heavily places his hands on the young boy's shoulders. "You get more and more handsome each day, my boy!" Mr. Everdeen smiles, and chuckles as he ruffles the boy's wavy blonde locks.

"Daddy, I told Peeta you got him something from town!" Katniss lilts from the small kitchen, bring over a tin of freshly baked cookies for her and Peeta to share. Peeta takes one gratefully, his stomach grumbling from an active day at school, and eats the cookie in two big bites.

Mr. Everdeen picks up a box from the table and hands it to Peeta, who sits on the floor with Katniss and eagerly opens the lid. Inside lays a smooth suede jacket with two large front pockets, made from the finest chocolate brown suede Peeta had ever seen. Being from town himself, Peeta had seen many of these jackets in the display window of the Cartwright's dressing shop. But never had he dared to go in and enquire about one himself, the price tag hanging from the jackets a clear indication that Peeta could never afford one, even with his family's status as one the more well-off in District 12.

Peeta was suddenly filled with shame, remembering the walks home from The Everdeen's that Katniss and her father would spend with Peeta, stopping to take a peek at the fine suede and leather jackets in the window displays. No, he could never accept such an expensive present, the young boy thought. Gingerly putting the top back on the box, Peeta handed it back to a confused Mr. Everdeen.

"I could never accept such a fine gift, Mr. Everdeen. It's much too expensive," Peeta deeply sighed. Katniss' father just smiled warmly at the young boy, though, and opened the box himself, pulling the jacket out. It was a few sizes too big, but, Peeta thought, that was just as well. Mr. Everdeen almost always bought things a few sizes too big so that his family and him were able to grow into it. As Peeta looked at Katniss' perfectly fitted dress, though, he realized that this month was the highly anticipated raise all of the employed in District 12 would be receiving, courtesy of the Capitol. It wasn't much, as was anything in this District, but it was something, and very much a cause for celebration for the residents of the poorest District in Panem.

"You know that I would never buy anything frivolous, Peeta," Mr. Everdeen started, and while Peeta wasn't entirely sure what that word meant, he was smart enough to assume it's meaning. "Consider it an early birthday present."

Katniss' father knowingly smiled at Peeta, for they both knew that Peeta's birthday wasn't for another few months. But there was no use in arguing it any further, he thought. If Mr. Everdeen wanted to give Peeta such an amazing gift, then Peeta would accept it graciously.

It didn't matter the warm weather of the day, nor how the sleeves of the jacket sagged down quite a few inches where the boy's arms didn't reach – Peeta wore the jacket with pride for the rest of the day, carefully brushing any crumbs the cookies left off of the front lapel, or grinning widely when Katniss gingerly placed a fresh flower into the front pocket.

And when Peeta walked home that night with Katniss and her father, he walked past the dressing shop's window with just as wide of a smile, peering at the empty mannequin in the front window display.


	2. The Day the Mines Exploded

I come home from a fun night out to find 6 reviews and a whole bunch of hits on the very first little chapter of my story; not to mention the favourites and alerts I have in my story stats. I have, without a doubt, the coolest group of readers out there! Thank you so much for your support. And since I'm such a sucker for reviews - hint, hint - as a thank you, I give you chapter two of '_Burning Brighter_'... although it isn't the happiest little chapter, it is an important part of Katniss and Peeta's journey together. I hope you guys like it. :)

Disclaimer: I still don't own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

It was a cold, rainy day on the morning when the mines exploded in District 12.

Peeta and Katniss had been friends for a little over a year at that point. Yet, when he watched as her, her younger sister and her mother stood by the elevator shaft down to the mines, he made no move to comfort them.

His mother's hand was heavy on his shoulder, no expression on her face except for the slight hardening of her jaw as more and more men piled out of the mines; first, a big rush of men covered in soot. Then less and less as the day wore on until finally, the elevators stopped running and the families of the unrecoverable men were shakily led back to their homes.

Peeta watched as Katniss, his best friend in the entire world, crumbled to the ground and clutched at the wet earth, screaming into the soil for her father to come out. The boy's legs tingled and itched to run to her, to wrap her in his arms and to let her cry into the chocolate brown suede of his coat. But his mother's watchful eyes and sharp nails prevented him from moving more than an inch towards the young girl.

Long after the area in front of the mines had been cleared and Peeta and his family had made their way back to the bakery, even longer after than when his parents and two brothers went to bed, Peeta still sat up in his own bed, fully dressed. He waited until he could hear the soft snores of his parents, and carefully tip-toed out of his bedroom. Halfway down the stairs, he heard a soft cough behind him and turned to see his father standing in the hallway, arms crossed; but his face wasn't stern or angry. It was instead concerned and understanding. Mr. Mellark tied his robe tighter around himself and silently followed Peeta to the main floor of the bakery. They tied their boots and shrugged on their coats, quietly making their way outside.

They walked through the town and up to the Seam, almost all of the lights in the houses there on. But they only had one house in mind.

The two men were shocked to see Greasy Sae opening the front door of The Everdeen's small home, a solemn look on her face.

"Mr. Mellark." Sae greets Peeta's father with a nod of her head, and he returns it with a nod of his own.

She holds the door open for the both of them, and they quietly take their shoes off, moving further into the room to see the three women curled together on the couch. Young Prim isn't quite old enough to fully understand the gravity of the situation, and silently cries as her mother brushes her fine blonde hair back and weeps. And Katniss, looking so much like her father, is gripping onto Prim's hand so tightly that Peeta is wondering whether or not it's hurting the young girl. Katniss' grey eyes are filled with tears that constantly spill over onto the knees she has tucked up to her chin as she stares at the blazing fire in the fireplace. When she hears the click of the door, she takes one look behind her shoulder and is immediately up and running into Peeta's waiting arms.

Peeta isn't quite sure what to do, but the young boy just knows what feels right. He stands with Katniss, rubbing her back in small circles as she sobs into his chest. He can almost feel her heart breaking with every choking gasp she makes, and he grips her tighter and tighter.

They spend the evening like that, sitting in her father's now empty armchair, the both of them filling it easily. Peeta's father lends a reassuring shoulder to Katniss' mother, who now holds a sleeping Prim on her lap. He vaguely remembers a story his father once told him about loving the woman he now has his arm around, but Peeta knows that the last thing on his father's mind is that. He knows that his father only sees the woman as a dear friend of his, one who had her entire life shattered into little tiny pieces, and whom he had to be there for as nothing more and nothing less than a supportive friend.

And when the early break of morning comes, and Katniss finally falls into a fitful sleep with her head on Peeta's lap – that is why when the young boy gingerly places a kiss on his best friend's forehead and brushes her hair away from her face as he makes his leave, his father gives him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, along with a tight smile. He did as he was supposed to; stayed the supportive best friend of the girl he secretly loved.


	3. The Stale Bread

Super short chapter, I know, I know. I have a much longer chapter after this one though, I promise! As I said in a previous author's note, this was originally a one-shot so these are just parts of what I thought was going to be one cohesive chapter. As I post them, I'm writing a little more for almost every one until we start getting to the reaaally long chapters. This also isn't the happiest little chapter, but it's needed to develop the story more.

As always, I hope you guys like it! The reviews, favourites and alerts I got on the last chapter were awesome, and I had to stop myself from posting this yesterday! Keep the reviews coming, they're really, really sweet and really encouraging to me! :)

Disclaimer: I_ still_ don't own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

Since that night, so many months ago, Peeta had only seen Katniss around at school – just barely, though. When she wasn't sitting at a table with her sister, silently picking apart the stale roll of bread she had brought as her lunch, Katniss was silently staring ahead, thoughts playing through her mind but no emotions showing on her face to explain them.

Peeta's mother had been awake uncharacteristically early the morning that Peeta and his father had come back home from The Everdeen's, and she was riled up something fierce. Peeta had gained a nice fat lip from that morning, as well as a thin, angry scratch along his forearm. He hadn't regretted his actions, but his father had adamantly let him know that any further trips to see Katniss and her family would only result in further, harsher consequences. As it was, the stale bread from the Mellark's bakery was being given to those families in the Seam who had lost their husbands and fathers that day at the mines, and even the thought of the old, crusted bread from the back of the shelves being given to The Everdeen's had sent Peeta's mother on a long tirade.

It broke Peeta everyday, though, to see Katniss come to school day after day with bags under her tired, grey eyes. There was no more shine in them, no more sparkle like before; her smile never came out and her dresses seemed to be growing larger in size, but Peeta knew in the pit of his stomach that The Everdeens weren't just buying clothes in larger sizes as Mr. Everdeen once had.

After only two months of the stale bread from the bakery being given to the families in the Seam, Peeta's mother insisted that her stocks were running low and the stale bread was needed for when the fresh bread ran out. Peeta knew it was a lie, though, and when Greasy Sae and other important residents of the Seam would come in to ask if there was any stale bread to spare, his mother would send Peeta and his brothers to hide the freshly baked goods in the back of the shop, away from the eyes of anyone except for paying customers.

It went on like that for a countless amount of days, and soon Peeta didn't even get a breath in towards Katniss. It was almost like she wasn't there; sure, Mrs. O'Malley would call attendance and Katniss' hand would shakily raise to show that she was there, but she wasn't _really _there, and that's what scared Peeta the most. He almost felt like she would disappear altogether.


	4. The Boy with The Bread

I'm just gonna leave this here for you guys. :) As always, I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for your lovely and kind reviews. Each one means so much to me, really! I know that there hasn't been any dialogue between Katniss and Peeta since chapter one, but it's important to get a little backstory going... also, our star-crossed lovers may or may not be reuniting in the next chapter, but my lips are sealed! :)

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

The large, stinging lump on his cheek was worth it.

The week of hauling 50 pound bags of flour on his back was worth it.

The ringing in his ears from his mother screaming profanities at him was worth it.

And, above all, the small glance she granted him that morning after he threw her the loaves of charred bread were entirely worth it.

When he had seen her curled up in the mud, her father's old hunting jacket hanging off of her boney shoulders, the large shirt perched on her skeleton-like frame, and the ripped pants showing her fragile knees, he broke.

What kind of a friend was he to let her become this shell of a person? Who was he to just stand by and watch as the light slowly left her eyes and her skin drained of colour, leaving just the hint of the olive complexion she once had on the surface of her sallow skin.

Who was he to stand by all those months and let his mother talk him into letting Katniss and her family starve to death?

How could he ever say that he loved this girl, and yet watch her deteriorate into nothing?

All of this was reason enough to suffer through the punishments he endured at the hands of his mother. He didn't for a second regret it, and in the coming two weeks watched with apprehension as Katniss and Prim slowly gained a little bit of weight back.

Peeta would wait, as he always had, for Katniss. Through all the days and weeks he would ignore her, through all the glances she wouldn't return, through all the days he would sit at his lunch table and watch her eating with Madge Undersee – that was probably the best time of his day. Watching her _eating_. If Katniss had enough food to take for her school lunches, she had enough food for her and her mother and Prim at home. She would never allow herself to take even a bite of food if the rest of her family was to go without. So yes, the best part of Peeta's day was watching Katniss, albeit solemn and barely talking, eating lunch with Madge Undersee.

He tried not to mind when he would hear Katniss coming to his back door every Sunday morning, and pretended not to hear her quiet voice exchanging squirrels for bread with his father. He did allow himself to peek out his window and watch her trudge back to The Seam in her father's old hunting jacket and her worn leather hunting boots. And on those days he would walk back to his own closet and pull out a dark chocolate brown suede coat, folding it carefully over his arm and sitting back on his bed, remembering fondly the man who gave it to him.

Peeta could see Mr. Everdeen in Katniss' features and actions and demeanour. He would see the lines in the corner of his eyes crinkle when he laughed the rare times Katniss would smile at something Madge would say, or the strong tenor of his speech when she would make a class presentation. He could especially see the will and determination, the drive and strength that came to Mr. Everdeen so easily whenever Katniss would come back from hunting and walk through the town square, a big bag of game slung over her shoulder and a look of pride on her face.

The one thing that made Mr. Everdeen the happiest, the one thing that he would put above everything else, was his family and providing for them. Just like her father, Katniss Everdeen took pride in making sure her family had enough to eat and a roof over their heads, day after day.

As proud as she was of herself, Peeta was just as proud, if not more so, of Katniss. He hoped he could tell her that one day soon.

When the time came, he assured himself, Katniss would come to him and he hoped, they could begin to rebuild their friendship.


	5. The Buttercream Promise

Reunion time! :) I was just as tired as you all probably were waiting for them to make up. This wasn't originally going to be in here - in fact, I only just wrote this yesterday. But I thought the age gap between Katniss and Peeta not speaking and then reuniting was a little too much of a jump, so I slammed this chapter down in one sitting! Also, it's much longer than any of the other chapters, and from here on out the chapters will continue to get longer. Thank you for the favourites and alerts and reviews, and even those who haven't favourited, alerted or reviewed - thank you for taking the time to read my story. Every view means so much to me, and I know I say it every time but it really is true, and makes me really excited to post each chapter every time! :)

Disclaimer: I_ still_ don't own_ The Hunger Games_.

* * *

Another sleepless night, another night spent awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling with tired thoughts.

Peeta sits up carefully, not wanting to disturb his brothers sleeping in their own beds. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and quietly avoids all the floorboards he knows creak when you step on them. He tip-toes down the stairs and enters the main floor of the bakery, the smell of yeast and dough and sweet frosting filling his mind and stirring him awake. Making sure not to alert his family, Peeta flicks on a light switch and the back of the bakery is absorbed in a warm, bright light.

Peeta prepares a piping bag full of buttercream icing and grabs a tray of cupcakes from the large fridge, settling down on a stool at one of the islands. He absentmindedly begins decorating the vanilla cupcakes, one after the other. Soon, a whole dozen cakes are decorated, and Peeta once again fills up the piping bag and grabs another tray of cupcakes from the fridge.

Katniss breathes in the cool night air, only the sound of her boots on the dirt accompanying her.

Another sleepless night, another night spent awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling with tired thoughts.

When Katniss knew she wasn't going to get any sleep, she had gingerly climbed out of bed and tucked Prim in, placing a kiss on her forehead before she threw on a pair of old green khaki pants and her hunting boots, not bothering to change her baggy sleeping shirt and putting her father's hunting jacket on over top of it.

It was a pleasant enough night, not too cold, and she enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing through her loose hair. Katniss knew that nothing bad ever happened at night in District 12, and trudged through The Seam, passing by Gale's house on her way out.

All the lights were off, which seemed odd because it always seemed that The Hawthorne house was the house that never slept; with the younger kids always running around and playing, Hazelle always busy in the kitchen, and older brother Gale chasing around his younger siblings or doing work around the house. But, Katniss supposed, even the most energetic of households had to sleep, too.

The reminder of Gale brought a furrow to her eyebrows. There was never a day she spent with Gale where he wasn't bringing a controversial topic up. It was usually The Capitol, but lately Gale had been focusing on a topic that unbeknownst to him never left Katniss' mind. She could almost hear him saying it now.

"You know your friend Peeta?"

"He's... not my friend, Gale," Katniss had sniffed, paying much closer attention to the apple she was eating than was needed.

"Alright then... You know that townie, Peeta?"

Katniss had glared at Gale, not amused in the least. The absence of Peeta from her life nagged in the back of her mind, and always taunted her when it came around as a dull ache in the pit of her stomach.

Gale took her silence as a cue to continue. "Well, he was down by The Hob yesterday."

Katniss' ears perked up at that. "He was? What... what was he doing there?"

Gale smirked humorlessly.

"He came down to deliver some bread to Sae... you know, I don't know why the kid bothers. It was his family that refused to give us even a measly loaf of stale bread after what happened at the mines, and I don't think-"

"Gale, _stop it_."

Katniss' sudden outburst surprised the both of them, yet she still held her ground as she launched up from her perch on the large rock they both shared, and quickly packed her things into her satchel.

"Woah there, Catnip, easy. What's got you so upset?" When she wouldn't reply, just continuing to pack up the fruit and game they had divided, Gale rushed out, "It's like you said, _you're not even friends_!"

Ouch.

"Whatever you say, Gale," Katniss had responded and trudged forward, and Gale slung his game bag over his shoulder and followed behind her. The rest of the way back, there were no words spoken between them. And when they arrived at The Hob, Katniss couldn't stop herself from scanning the place for Peeta, ignoring Gale's tense expression.

Without even realizing it, Katniss had ended up in the Town Square, peering in the windows of the shops. With everything else being dark, the small sliver of light playing on the cobblestones gave Katniss a start, and she followed the warm yellow light with her eyes, along the grey stones and past a familiar welcome mat, up a small staircase and right to the glass door of The Mellark's Family Bakery.

Her chest tightened and her lungs burned with the cold air she quickly breathed in. She couldn't stop her feet from walking, no _running_ to the door of the bakery. Her hands pressed against the cool glass of the front door, and her hard breaths against the window fogged up the glass in front of her; but she could still see him clearly.

Past the front counter, past the racks of bread around a door frame that lead into the back room, Katniss could clearly see a tray of cupcakes being decorated by an unmistakable hand. She could see that hand gently grasping a dark suede coat, and holding a pencil as it wrote in school – and she could especially see it ripping off chunks of charred bread and throwing two loaves out into the pouring rain.

Peeta's head shot up at the sound of the front door's bell tinkling quietly, and his heart raced. Why wasn't the front door locked, was his first thought. His second slammed into his mind... _who _was in the bakery? Was it a thief? It wouldn't surprise him. Anyone who found a door of a shop in town open would obviously break in and steal any goods or money that were around.

Peeta picked up a large wooden rolling pin, the only thing that was at arm's reach, and stood by the door that separated him and whomever was in the bakery. He could hear their faint footsteps on the hardwood of the floor, and furrowed his eyebrows. Shouldn't they be busy rummaging around and gathering things?

He steeled himself and sucked in a large breath of air, pushing the door open quickly.

"... Katniss?"

Peeta placed the rolling pin on the front counter and launched himself across the floor. Her feet moved as his did, and they crashed into each other, her head tucked into his neck and their arms wrapped tightly around one another. His hands found purchase first on her back, then finding their way up to her hair and holding her close to him. Her arms were wrapped almost painfully around his waist, and the tears she had been fighting so hard to keep in spilled over onto the fabric of his shirt.

It felt like Katniss' chest had exploded, her heart pounding loudly in her ears as she breathed in the smell of him – like fresh laundry and soap and bread dough and _Peeta_.

He couldn't sense anything other than her. The way she gasped for air against him, the way her hands grasped the fabric of his shirt, the way her hair felt as he smoothed it down with his hands, rubbing her back soothingly. The way that Peeta's heart felt like it could burst, and how his eyes burned with the tears he could barely squeeze behind his closed eyelids.

They stood there, holding each other, for longer than they could count. It could have been hours when they pulled apart and Peeta brushed Katniss' hair away from her wet, tear-streaked face. Everything in him told him not to cry, how ridiculous it was for a 12-year-old boy to be crying, but when the tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes, he didn't move to stop them.

"Don't you ever leave me again, you got that?" he spoke, keeping his voice quiet so it wouldn't crack.

Katniss nodded fiercely.

"Promise me, Katniss. Please promise me."

"I promise, Peeta. I promise." The words came easily to her, without a second thought.

It was unthinkable to her from now on to ever be away from Peeta Mellark.

And though they hadn't spoken to each other for a year, had barely given each other so much as a glance, Katniss and Peeta spent the rest of the early morning in the back room of the bakery, eating the cupcakes adorned with small frosting buttercups. And as Peeta put on his dark suede jacket to walk Katniss back to her house and Peeta's father came down, they weren't afraid of the consequences. Because Mr. Mellark just smiled at their apprehensive faces, walking over to the island and purposely knocking over an empty tray, the sound ringing out through the bakery.

"Well, it looks like I dropped a _whole tray _of cupcakes..."

Katniss and Peeta held their hands to their faces, giggling into them as quietly as they could.

"Now hurry on and get Katniss home before your mother gets down here," Mr. Mellark spoke in hushed tones, hurrying the two out of the door.

When they arrived at Katniss' house in the early morning's blue light, they found Prim just waking up and slowly sitting up in bed.

"Katniss?"

"I'm right here, little duck," Katniss whispered back to her little sister.

As Peeta turned to leave, he stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name; but not from Katniss.

"Peeta?" Prim questioned through a yawn, and he turned back to her.

"Hey, Prim," he smiled.

"You're back?"

"Yeah... I'm back."

"Good," the young girl tiredly smiled, settling back into her bed. "Don't leave again."

Peeta and Katniss locked eyes, smirks playing on their faces.

"I promise."


	6. The Fancy Dress Jealousy

Wow! 11 reviews on the latest chapter? So awesome, thank you all so much! :) I love to hear your guy's feedback! A little info about this chapter: it's happy. And quite fluffy compared to the other chapters. So I hope you guys like it, because there's a couple more chapters that are something like this until the chapter I'm writing, which is a little something called The Reaping. But nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :)

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

"Katniss, that's ridiculous! You are not going to take out any tesserae, and that's final!"

Peeta angrily trudged through the forest ahead of her, picking up twigs and branches as he went along. He tucked them neatly under his arm and continued, and Katniss thought for a moment how large the muscles in his arms looked when he flexed them around the branches like that.

Quickly shaking the thought from her mind, Katniss sighed angrily and tried to catch up with Peeta, her own pile of branches tucked under her arm haphazardly.

"Peeta, you must have known that I was going to anyway! I don't see why you're so angry," she scoffs, and abruptly stops when she realizes that he has turned and is now sternly standing in front of her.

"No, Katniss, I didn't know. I thought... I just... never mind," the boy fumbles, his developing voice cracking at the end of his sentence. He awkwardly shifts his feet and waits until she's readjusted the pile of sticks under her arm. They continue walking in silence from then on, only stopping when the twigs in her arms start slipping from her grasp. She refuses his help, until finally her hair gets caught on a low-lying branch and she drops the entire pile of sticks to the forest floor.

She silently curses and he frowns. "I wish you would stop swearing. Where did you hear those words, anyway?" he questions, bending down next to her to gather some of the branches into his own pile.

"Gale," she sniffs, and it's a simple name, but it deepens the frown on his face instantly.

Peeta was never one for hunting in the forest, like Katniss. He had tried once, on the pretence of going with her to make sure she was alright in the woods by herself, but the resulting twisted ankle he gained from the experience had resulted in Katniss officially banning him from the woods. Until, of course, he had convinced her to let him accompany her to gather fire wood and kindle for their fireplaces at their homes.

On her hunting trips, though, Katniss had met Gale Hawthorne, the tall, rugged boy from the Seam. Gale had lost his father in the same mine explosion as Katniss, and when they met in the woods while hunting separately one Sunday morning, instantly found an affinity with each other. Peeta wasn't very fond of the older boy's influence on Katniss' language, and even less fond of the way he saw Peeta as an opponent. Peeta had been willing to look past Gale's obvious affection towards Katniss, but couldn't when the older boy constantly tried to convince Katniss that Peeta was a stuck up townie, secretly laughing at those living in the Seam with his well-to-do friends at school.

That was the farthest thing from the truth, though – Peeta truthfully preferred to be with Katniss rather than the "townies" Peeta knew as his school friends, and would easily pick Katniss over them any day. He wished he could say the same about Katniss picking Peeta over Gale any day, but he wasn't so sure that was true.

At Peeta's contemplative silence, Katniss chanced a look up at the boy. The sun was just peeking through the trees, casting a soft glow behind Peeta's head and illuminating his blonde locks. The slight frown on his face didn't make him look any less charming, though – if anything, it was incredibly endearing and Katniss found herself laughing lightly as she observed him. She might even go as far as to say he looked handsome.

"What?" Peeta asks, noticing Katniss' curious stare.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just looking at you."

"Like what you see?" Peeta asks, ridiculously wagging his eyebrows. Katniss can't suppress her laughter, and they both hold their stomachs as a laughing fit takes over, thankfully breaking the rare tense silence between them.

As their laughter subsides, Katniss curiously asks, "Why don't you like Gale, Peeta?"

Such a simple question, but yet so complicated, Peeta thinks. He fills his cheeks with air and then puffs it out, looking at a point behind Katniss' shoulder as he thinks of a way to phrase his answer.

"Well... for one, I don't like the language he's teaching you."

"For one? There's more than one reason?"

Peeta doesn't answer her question, just continues on. "He also seems to think I'm some stuck up town kid who makes fun of you when you're not looking."

Katniss frowns, silently agreeing with Peeta. "I told him you're not like that, but he just insisted that he knew how kids from town are and that they're all like that."

"Now, that's not true at all," Peeta shakes his head. "I know plenty of kids who are perfectly nice!"

"Peeta, you think everyone is 'perfectly nice'," Katniss smirks teasingly.

"Well, I think that they are until they prove they're not!" Peeta defends himself.

Katniss nods her head. "Okay, name some then," she asks, moving to sit on a fallen over tree log, Peeta following close behind her. She pulls a couple of buns from her satchel and hands one to Peeta, who sits on her right side.

"Okay, fine, then. There's Madge Undersee, for one. And Delly Cartwright."

Katniss' nose subconsciously crinkles at the mention of Delly's name. It's not that Katniss disagrees with Peeta – Delly is a very nice girl. And that's exactly Katniss' problem with her. Delly is a short, sweet girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her family owns the dressing shop two down from the Mellark's family bakery, and Peeta and her have been friends since they were young children, their families having known each other for years. Peeta might not have noticed, or is too nice to say anything, but Delly has had a crush on Peeta since they were 11. Being 13 now, Katniss hadn't been the only one to notice some... _changes _in Peeta's physical appearance. His shoulders were beginning to fill out more, he had grown taller in what seemed like overnight, his voice had begun to get deeper – and this all resulted in Delly's crush on Peeta growing even stronger.

Even Katniss could admit, she couldn't really blame Delly. Even now, it was impossible to ignore the way Peeta's jaw flexed when he chewed the bread he was eating, or the strong curve of his shoulders. His slightly wavy blonde hair that flopped into his eyes on warm days like today, the way his blue eyes shone when they met Katniss' and, she noticed suddenly, just how long his eyelashes were as he silently blinked at her.

Yes, her best friend was agreeably handsome, Katniss had to admit. But that was just it, he's her _best friend_. She couldn't be thinking about him that way... could she?

"Yeah... yeah, they're alright," Katniss shrugged.

Peeta raised one of his blonde eyebrows in question.

"What's got your bow in a bunch?" he asks, bumping his shoulder into her own.

"I don't like Delly."

Peeta raises his eyebrow even higher, watching as Katniss angrily bites a chunk of her bread and chews it, avoiding looking at him.

He really didn't get just why Katniss wouldn't like Delly. She was a nice enough girl, one of his closest friends, even. Well, aside from Katniss of course – no one could really come close to the friendship he has with her. The only thing that had ever really bothered him about Delly was her blatantly obvious crush on him. It had only grown in the past year or so, but with Delly's deliberate bumps into Peeta in the halls at school, or her personal deliveries of his parent's tailored suits and dresses, or how he always seemed to find her sat beside him at lunch, or even the few times she had tried to steal Katniss' seat in class. All of that made her like for Peeta glaringly obvious. But Katniss couldn't be bothered by that, could she?

Surely she knew that in his eyes, Peeta was more than happy to never take a second look at a girl other than Katniss and his mother in his entire life.

Katniss' expression told a different story, though. Her scrunched eyebrows, her sudden interest in a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of a tree or picking at her fingernails, tucking the loose hair from her braid behind her ear...

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

Katniss' head shot up, her eyes staring straight into Peeta's, squinting from withheld laughter.

"I'm not _jealous_, Peeta, don't be ridiculous."

Katniss busied herself with rearranging the sticks she had previously been carrying, kneeling down to put them into neater piles to resemble Peeta's pile of twigs. He jumped off the high tree trunk, leaning with his shoulder blades against it and his arms crossed over his chest. Yes, she was jealous. He could see it in the way she too-neatly rearranged her piles of firewood, knowing that Katniss was never a stickler for organization.

"Yes, you are. You're jealous!" Peeta smirked, and she spun on her heels quickly to face him. His eyes widened a bit, and she took joy in her finger pointing against his chest.

"I am not jealous, Peeta. I have no reason to be. So wipe that silly smirk off your face before-"

"You are too, jealous! I just wanna know why, though."

"Peeta, I told you-"

"Nope, you can't deny it, Katniss. You're jealous. Why?"

"Peeta-"

"How come you're jealous? Huh? _Huh?"_

"Okay, _fine! _I'm jealous of Delly, okay? She has all of these nice dresses and nice clothes, and your families have known each other for years! She could very easily replace me... or something. She has all the criteria your mother would want for your perfect girlfriend, and I just... I don't know."

He watches as she tears her gaze away from his, inspecting the toe of her boots as it scuffs the ground. The way the hair around her face sways with the breeze, falling haphazardly out of her single braid. Her dark eyelashes playing shadows on her cheekbones, against her olive skin. All of these little things about her, the girl he loves.

"You have nothing to be jealous about, Katniss," he reassures her softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looks up at him then, her grey eyes shining in the shadows of the early morning sun. Always so beautiful, without even trying. "There is no one else that could possibly come close to you. You're my best friend, Katniss. No amount of fancy dresses can change that."

He taps the tip of her nose with his index finger, something she pretends to hate but he knows she secretly likes, and smiles as she grabs his hand to swat it away from her face as expected. What isn't expected, though, is the way she wraps her fingers around his tightly and squeezes, granting him a glowing grin.

They pick up their firewood and walk hand in hand the rest of the way home, and Peeta knows that he's put Katniss' mind at ease, reassuring her of her solid, permanent place in his life as his best friend. And as they laugh the rest of the day away, he assures himself that he's content with just this for now, until he can gather the courage to tell her how he really feels.


	7. The Summer Lemon Kiss

Hello my lovelies! Here's a little Saturday treat for you guys. The title says it all, so read on and I hope you enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

Mrs. Mellark was never one to give compliments to anyone, let alone Katniss. So when The Everdeens and The Mellarks met up in the town square late one August night for the annual Harvest Dance, the short, albeit passive aggressive compliment Peeta's mother gave to Katniss pleasantly surprised everyone.

"Your girl looks nice," Mrs. Mellark had gruffly said, her arms crossed over her chest. "Better than that hunting getup she usually wears."

A 15-year-old Katniss and Peeta had exchanged wide-eyed looks as they observed the tense pleasantries between their mothers. Mrs. Mellark had always held a resentment towards Katniss' mother, knowing how her husband still pined for her from time to time. But, Katniss observed with a small smirk, you couldn't blame Peeta's father for pining over her mother. Mrs. Mellark wasn't the most welcoming woman in town.

But indeed, Peeta could definitely admit, Katniss looked wonderful. She wore an old purple dress of her mother's, slightly worn with age, as were her dainty beige flats on her feet. The cap sleeves and the white buttons down the front of the dress, along with the delicate white trim, all complimented Katniss' slight figure with ease. Katniss, while always perfect to him, was much _too_ slight in Peeta's opinion – not in a superficial way, of course, because Katniss was every bit as beautiful as she always had been. But from years of getting _just_enough food to eat, Katniss was always very slim. With help from him and his father, along with her amazing hunting skills, The Everdeens never went without for too long, though.

Tonight wasn't a night to think of those things, though. The Harvest Dance was the one rare celebration the people of District 12 were allowed. After a full year of collecting supplies, little by little, the town would convert the town square into a dance, with a food and drink table and a live band of talented musicians from the District. Despite their lack of lavish items and bountiful food supplies, the people of District 12 knew how to dance and have a good time.

Little by little, Peeta had worked with Prim to get Mrs. Everdeen out of her own little world. Katniss became much too frustrated to help most of the time, so Peeta and Prim took it upon themselves to coax Mrs. Everdeen out of her shell. Tonight, as Katniss and Peeta watched her mother mingle with the friends she hadn't seen in weeks, Katniss was overwhelmed with gratitude. In every way possible, Peeta had saved her and her family countless times, and had always been there to support her.

So as they danced song after song, always together and always laughing and smiling, Katniss kept a firm grip on Peeta's hand, only letting go to clap or for Peeta to twirl her when the dance called for it. Once, when Delly came over to ask Peeta if he would like to dance with her, Katniss had squeezed his hand tight and placed her free hand on his chest.

"Sorry, Delly. Peeta's my date for the night."

The girl had blushed and apologized, sending a knowing smile Peeta's way. Before Katniss had time to question it, another song had started and they were off on the dance floor again, sweating and laughing as they moved their feet to the music.

"So, I'm your date for the night, huh?" Peeta had asked her, taking a long sip from a cup of lemonade. Katniss watched him with a bright smile on her face, his cheeks flushed from the dancing and his eyes bright. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and she bit her lip with apprehension, the smile still on her face.

"Didn't I tell you?" Katniss asked, feigning forgetfulness as she tapped a finger on her chin.

Peeta laughed and reached his left arm out to pull her into his side, tucking her shoulder comfortably under his arm as she rested her head over his heart. It was beating furiously, she noted, nudging her head further into the soft cotton of his button down shirt.

They watched their friends and neighbours dance and eat and laugh and joke, every once in a while laughing themselves as they overheard someone telling a joke from their place on the back of a horse-drawn cart just off the side of the town square, where someone would have to walk around a few more parked horse-drawn carts to see them. Haymitch Abernathy, the only living victor of The Hunger Games that District 12 had to offer, was sitting in a chair by the drink table, tapping his foot to the music as he took a swig from the flask in his hand. It was the only time Katniss and Peeta had really seen Haymitch at the Harvest Dance, or maybe they were just too young to notice. Peeta thought he was a nice enough man, but Katniss insisted that she had seen him drunk at the Hob more times than she could count, and the colourful language he used wasn't typically the kind you would hear from a neighbourly fellow.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?" she distractedly answers, her eyes heavy and tired from the long night of dancing in the late-Summer warmth.

"You really do look beautiful tonight."

She cranes her head up to look at him in the slight glow from the lights in the town square and the moon, their legs hanging off the side of the cart. The light dances on his smooth, still flushed skin, and glows against his wide smile. She notices, not for the first time, just how long his eyelashes are, and she reaches out to brush his hair away from his eyes a little bit to get a better look at them. She rests her hand on his cheek, and they both laugh quietly.

"You really are very handsome, you know that?" she says, and it comes out from behind a smile but they both know she's being completely honest. His smile deepens, and he reaches out to tuck a few pieces of her hair behind her ear. Her mother has pulled Katniss' hair back into a low up do, delicate pieces of hair coming from her bun and framing her face. A few strands of hair stick to her forehead with sweat, and Peeta brushes those away from her face, too, so he can get a clear look at her now, with such a sweet expression on her face.

They've known each other long enough to know that however different this might be from how they usually are around one another, it's not wrong. The way her breath shakes as she slowly exhales, and the smell of her breath – lemons and summer fruit – fans over his face and neck, making goosebumps rise on his skin isn't wrong. The way his skin is so warm, but feels so cool when he rests his hand on her neck and his thumb grazes just underneath her ear isn't wrong. The way they smile at each other like they're sharing secrets isn't wrong.

Peeta waits with baited breath, allowing her to make the next move. They're so close now, his left arm wrapped around her shoulders and her left arm wrapped around his waist. To anyone who would look at them in this moment, they would look like two lovers in an embrace. He knew, though, that he would wait for Katniss, just like he always has.

Peeta's skin tingles in anticipation as her free hand brushes his hair away from his eyes softly and comes to rest once again on his cheek. Katniss feels dizzy; partly from how confusing her feelings are, and partly from the proximity of him making her breath catch in her throat.

Finally, slowly, they both lean in and tentatively kiss. It's simple and sweet, and all Katniss can think about is how he tastes like cinnamon and raspberries and mint, spicy and sweet and cool all at the same time. When they pull away, it surprises both of them that the first one to lean back in is Katniss, crashing her lips into Peeta's with the tightness she feels in the pit of her stomach giving her confidence. Their inexperience is lost on the both of them, the give and take of their kiss coming naturally to them as he pulls her bottom lip in between both of his own and brings it gently into his mouth.

Her tongue grazes the space just between his lips, and he happily grants her entrance with a soft moan that comes out as more of a breath. His fingers find themselves entangled deep into her hair, loosening her up do. He feels bad for a minute, reminding himself how much time was most likely spent on the hairdo that he just mussed up, when one of her hands grasps onto his shirt tightly and the other weaves itself into the hair at the nape of his neck. When she pulls on it slightly, Peeta grants her a small groan and she smiles against his lips.

Katniss had never felt this kind of feeling before. There might have been hints of it every once in a while, when Peeta would peel off his shirt in the hot summer weather in her backyard on lazy afternoons, or the mornings when she would go over to his house in town to wake him up for school and he would be tangled in his sheets, only a pair of boxers covering him. The blush would rise on her face, only to be stamped down quickly when she would refuse such foolish thoughts; most especially about her best friend. This time, though, she couldn't deny the feeling, and she let it rise and fill her stomach with something tingly and exciting.

Peeta, however, was fully relishing in the feel of Katniss' lips and her hands in fists on the fabric of his shirt. This girl, his best friend, the only girl he had ever been in love with and was entirely, 100% sure was the only girl he ever would be in love with. He pretended not to notice her long glances at his bare chest in the mornings before school, and he respected her want not to act on any of the emotions he saw, though brief, play across her face. Peeta had waited until she decided she wanted to act on them, and finally she was. His heart soared with every second they spent wrapped in each others arms, not wanting it to end but knowing the burning in his lungs couldn't wait any longer.

They pull apart with large gasps of air, still clinging to each other. Their damp foreheads press together and they take a minute to catch their breath, breathing each other in with the warm summer night's air. Until then, they had blocked the sound of the music and the people chatting out, and it came back to them like a wall of sound. They breathlessly laughed, trying to keep quiet but knowing the jubilation they had couldn't be quieted down.

After Katniss tried to rearrange Peeta's shirt, straightening out collars and re-doing buttons, and Peeta smoothed down Katniss' now unruly hair, they made their way back out to the party hand in hand, unable to wipe the smiles off of their faces.

And when Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark spotted their children making their way through the crowd of joyous, dancing people they couldn't wipe the knowing smiles off of their faces either.


	8. The Hopeful Pants

Bonjour, mes amis! :) It's been a long while, and I apologize for not updating for... oh, just about a month and a half or so? My laptop charger broke, and since all of the writing I have done for this story is on my laptop, I couldn't update. But Thank God that I have a new charger and can now bring you lovely angsty writing to brighten your day! ;)

P.S., if you are ever looking for some new stories to read, I would suggest going over to my profile and checing my favourites out. I've read all of the stories on there and loved them, and I'm sure you guys would love them, too!

P.P.S., hypothetically, if I were to post a Twilight fanfiction, would you guys hate me? Hahah. :)

This is the longest chapter yet, so sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own 'The Hunger Games'; _THIS CHAPTER IS RATED 'M'_.  
**

* * *

With The Reaping just a week away, looming overhead, Peeta made it his job to put Katniss' mind at ease.

Not only was she understandably worried about her own safety, but even more so Katniss was worried about the safety of Peeta and her younger sister, Prim; this was to be her first year eligible for The Reaping.

Not only had her mind been weighed down, but Peeta observed Katniss working herself to the bone on not only Sunday but Saturday morning, hunting in the woods with Gale. She had been absent from their usual Saturday morning get-together and Peeta had baked her favourite cheese buns without her, heavyhearted. He soon saw her hunched over form dragging her feet past the front window of the bakery, and hadn't had a second thought in running out the front door to catch up with her.

"Katniss!"

Quickly – as quick as she could in her state – Katniss' head swung around and an exhausted smile spread across her face at the sight of Peeta running towards her, wiping the remainder of the flour and dough on his hands onto his apron.

"Sorry, Peeta, I-"

"Are you okay? You look exhausted...," Peeta had remarked, placing both of his hands steadily on her shoulders to anchor her. His brows furrowed and knit together and Katniss marvelled, not for the first time, at his selfless nature. She had stood him up for their baking session together, and yet it was the last thing on his mind. Having a best friend like Peeta never got old, and she knew she was blessed to have him in her life.

"I was out hunting... with Gale. I wanted to get as much game as I could. I'm so, so sorry, Peeta - I didn't tell you that I wouldn't be there this morning like I promised."

Peeta smiled wryly. Her skipping out on him was the least of his worries. He now turned his full attention to the bags under her eyes, and the way her lids drooped heavily in the early morning breeze. Peeta tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and pulled her into his side as they continued to walk to her house.

"You know I really don't care about that, Katniss. I can teach you how to make cheese buns any old time. Let's just get you back home, changed into something more comfortable and you, Miss Everdeen, are going to have a long nap."

"A _nap_? Peeta, I don't have _time _for a nap! I promised Prim I would help her with her homework, and then I've gotta-"

"Don't worry about it. You're always doing everything for everybody else, be selfish just this once and _take a darn nap, Katniss_!" he insisted as they turned the bend to The Seam.

Katniss argued with him the entire way to her house, but Peeta was charming and persistent and she couldn't say no to him no matter how hard she tried. By the time they got to her house, Peeta had Katniss' hunting jacket flung over his arm and she was already rubbing her eyes, a sure sign of her tiredness. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, and Peeta beamed at Katniss when she rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't look so smug. Promise me you'll wake me up in 20 minutes!" Katniss said, pointing her finger at him. Peeta sighed in mock irritation and shooed her to the small bathroom in her house.

"Yes, yes. Go wash up, Katniss," Peeta insisted, putting her jacket and satchel over the back of a chair. Mrs. Everdeen smiled at him from her position at the old wooden table in their kitchen, peeling carrots for something she was preparing for lunch. Prim skipped in from the backyard and yelled an excited greeting to him with a pail of fresh goat's milk in her hand courtesy of Lady, her pet goat. Even Buttercup greeted him, his crooked ears perking up against his pant leg as the orange tabby cat rubbed it's side against Peeta's leg.

"Good thing you're here, Peeta! You can keep an eye on Lady for me. Mom and I were just getting ready to go to The Finnegan's – Landon Finnegan took a tumble off a huge slag heap down by the Hob and then..."

Katniss had tried to keep the light scowl on her face, but found herself smiling slightly as she scrubbed her hands with a bar of soap in the bathroom. She could hear Prim talking a mile a minute, explaining something to Peeta. He laughed, and her smile widened when she heard her mother's faint laughter joining in. The difference Peeta had made in Katniss' life didn't just stop with her – her sister, always the people person, took to Peeta easily and considered him as much a part of the family as her mother had grown to consider him, too.

Peeta could clearly hear the creaking of the floorboards when Katniss moved into her and Prim's shared bedroom above him, and politely excused himself just as Mrs. Everdeen and Prim slung their bags over their shoulders and headed out the door. He could see Katniss making her bed as he climbed the stairs, and quietly observed her actions as he leaned with one of his sides against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

When Katniss noticed he was there, she started before a tired smile settled onto her features. She heavily sat on the edge of the bed, the grey sky outside churning as the early afternoon sun hid behind the clouds. A breeze rolled in through the window, and he could see Katniss faintly shiver.

Peeta made his way to the bed and sat beside Katniss, wordlessly turning her shoulders so her back faced him, and undid her single, tightly woven braid, gliding his fingers through her hair from her scalp to the very ends. She heaved a sigh and her shoulders relaxed, and Peeta deftly licked his lips and sighed through his nose, curiously watching as the skin of her back broke out in goosebumps where her baggy sleep shirt drooped.

Out of Peeta's line of vision Katniss softly closed her eyes, carefully biting the delicate skin on the inside of her lip, her hands resting on her thighs – the thighs that now interestingly tingled. She errantly thought how she had dreamed of something similar but yet so different to this just the other day and how she had pushed it from her mind at the time.

Peeta, too, had dreamed of things like this as well but never allowed himself to do much more than daydreaming; always cautious of how it would affect him when he would see Katniss next.

In this moment though, all either of them could think about was the prickling on their skin that seemed to be in tune with the rapid beating of their hearts. This was uncharted territory, both between them and in general.

Peeta finished the route his hands were making through Katniss' hair, and instead moved his attention to the soft skin of her neck and upper shoulders. His expert hands kneaded the muscles deep underneath her flesh, and Katniss couldn't stop herself from shrugging more of her thin cotton shirt off of her shoulders and rolling her head to the side, exposing more of her skin to him.

Peeta's lower stomach clenched and unclenched, the muscles around his lower half following in kind. He tentatively leaned forward and placed a soft kiss at the base of Katniss' exposed neck, and quickly sat back at her reaction.

The muscles of her shoulders tensed, her blunt fingernails dug into the skin of her thighs that her shorts lacked to cover, and she sat straight up. The moment his lips touched her skin, it brought her back to the only other time Peeta's lips had been in contact with her skin – on a balmy August night just a year ago, the scent of lemons and sugar on his breath and the knot in her stomach dangerously curling and tightening. Since then, Katniss' dreams had been riddled with visions of Peeta's mouth on her mouth, on her skin and try as she might to push them away, they came rushing back the moment his lips touched the skin of her shoulder.

"Don't... don't stop," Katniss rushed out, and her voice surprised both of them. It was so unlike her to react this way, to almost plead for something as she was.

But the thing she was intensely unaware of was that nothing had to convince Peeta to continue as his hands came to rest lightly on her hips, and his lips moved slowly against the naked skin of her shoulders. As hard as Katniss tried to bite them back, the soft breaths that came from her had the unfamiliar but distinct tone of her provocation. Peeta's fingertips pushed gingerly against the flesh of her sides, his large hands wrapping around her hips with ease and an almost completeness.

Knowing that her nails were surely leaving light half-moon shapes on the skin of her thighs, Katniss brought her hands up to intertwine with Peeta's. Feeling her hands against his own spurred on his actions, and his movements were anything but chaste as he lightly sucked on the smooth, delicate skin just under her ear.

Katniss sucked in a large gust of air only to blow it out in a breathy moan, and wrenched Peeta's hands away from her waist to turn swiftly around and crash her lips onto his. Their groans mingled into one long, provocative sound. The newness of their actions was lost to both of them, thrown to the side along with any chasteness that remained as Peeta pulled Katniss to him by her waist, her legs settling on either side of his own hips. Her hands were everywhere; first against his chest, then resting on his neck, on his cheeks and finally weaving themselves into the hair at the nape of his neck. Peeta's hands travelled in kind; first on her waist, then gripping the cotton fabric of her shirt, and trailing up into her now loose hair. The only other time they had kissed his hands yearned to link themselves into her dark tresses, only to find themselves mingling with bobby pins in her delicate up do. Peeta now let his hands run through her soft hair and brush the loose tendrils away from her face.

They had found their way to resting against the worn wooden headboard, their chests pressed tightly together, breathing in sync – when she breathed in, he breathed out; when she breathed out, he breathed in. Peeta's senses were filled only with Katniss – her soft lips on his, her calloused hands resting on his chest, her hair making a dark curtain around their faces, their shirts shifting up and allowing the skin of their lower stomachs to press against each other and eliciting one of many moans from both of them.

No words were spoken, just the sound of their lips moving against each other, their breath heaving and the soft creaking of the mattress under their weight. Katniss' slender body was poised over Peeta's, never relinquishing control. He didn't mind, so long as she kept her long legs wrapped so tightly around his hips. Without breaking their lips apart, Peeta shifted carefully to ease the slight ache in his back, and Katniss sucked a large breath in, her mouth falling open as his thigh firmly glided against her center.

"Katniss?" he asked, thoroughly out of breath.

Without a word, Katniss carefully, cautiously, moved her hips against his leg again, hissing a sharp breath in as her foggy mind sent alarm bells to the pit of her stomach. She was nearly worried about her reaction to it, but had no time to second guess it as Peeta quickly flipped them over and settled his hips against her. The cool zipper of his pants registered through the thin fabric of her shorts, and her head tilted back against her pillow – he hadn't even done anything yet, and she was already foolishly coming undone at the touch of a zipper.

"Is this... are you okay? Like this?" Peeta asked, and it was possibly the first time she had heard him stumble over his words.

"Mmm," she nodded her assent without another thought about it, deciding that too much thinking was being done on her part and her foggy mind wouldn't allow her to put rational conclusions together at the moment.

"Okay... I don't want to... so just tell me if you're..."

"Peeta. I'm fine, just... keep... keep going," she assured him in between grunts of content.

When she met her lips with his once more, the doubt flew from his mind and his hips rolled into her own of their own accord, the very prominent bulge in his pants not lost on either of them. They moaned onto each others lips, not wasting another moment as she wrapped her legs around him. The foreign position of their bodies felt odd for the first few moments, but they quickly found a rhythm – her hips lifting as his dipped into her's – and the friction built up in their cores.

Their breathing sped up more and more with each thrust, and the metal of his zipper pushed all the right buttons against her clothing. Needing their lips free to accommodate their heavy breathing, but wanting the constant contact, they rested their foreheads against each other with their lips brushing every time they sunk into each other. Katniss' breathing transformed into delicate cries as she felt something warm rising in her stomach, feeling the tightness winding up. She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck, needing the leverage as her bones began feeling wobbly and her mind seemed to swim with Peeta - his skin on her and around her, his lips against her's and his breath against her mouth. Every time she pushed a heavy gust of air out of her lungs, it sounded like his name; Peeta, Peeta, _Peeta, Peeta..._

"_Peeta!"_her voice sung, as lights seemed to dance across her closed eyelids.

At the sound of his name from her lips in such a heavy tone, Peeta's carefully contained composure unravelled and he felt himself almost falling, his body weightless as his lower stomach pinched and twisted and almost seemed to explode. Her name fell from his lips just as easily as his name came from Katniss'.

She wrapped her arms around Peeta, pulling him into her and breathing him in. Katniss welcomed the breeze coming through the window as it cooled the thin layer of sweat on her forehead, and she carefully opened her eyes to examine Peeta; only to find his head resting in the crook of her neck. She faintly smiled, her exhaustion fully hitting her tenfold as she lazily ran her hand through his hair.

Although Katniss was all too happy to lose herself in the moment, Peeta only wished that he could. His mind raced a mile a minute, working to calculate where this new experience had left them – best friends, companions, _lovers_? A word that only came up in his thoughts and wishes during his frequent restless nights contemplating him and Katniss' relationship.

The girl he gladly gave his first kiss to was now the girl whom he had given his second kiss and more to – but no, not just a _girl._This is his best friend, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, the girl he loves, and nothing less.

Pushing through his racing thoughts was something uncomfortable, something that had him shifting his hips and furrowing his eyebrows. With a flash of realization, Peeta's face flushed red and he finally lifted his head from Katniss' shoulder at her insistence.

"What?" she asked with amusement, and the bright flush on her own cheeks was no match for his own as she studied his face.

"I, uh... I have a little problem."

Unwilling to lift himself away from her warmth, but knowing that there was an annoyingly pressing issue at hand, Peeta sat up. The embarrassment he felt burning his face up couldn't be contained, and when he pointedly looked down to his trousers, it increased tenfold when Katniss broke out into giggles.

"It really isn't funny, Katniss!" Peeta frowns, untucking his shirt from his pants.

Katniss lazily sits up as well, a smile still playing on her face as she unbuttons his shirt. "Why don't you go wash up, and I'll grab you a pair of pants. I'm sure we still have a pair of yours laying around here somewhere."

She peels his shirt off, resting her hands against his chest and easily leaning in for a nonchalant, languid kiss. Peeta's eyebrows are still raised when Katniss gets up to search out a change for his pants.

The spring in her step surprises even her, but she can barely contain herself. There's a warm feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach, and her face feels flushed. She finds a pair of his pants folded in a pile of laundry in the living room, and hurriedly jogs up the stairs to bring them to him.

Katniss can hear Peeta jump when she knocks on the bathroom door, and she can't stop the smile from erupting on her face when he just barely opens the door to reach his hand out and grasp the black pants from her.

"_Still not funny, Katniss!"_his voice echoes from the bathroom, and her laughter doesn't subside until she's settled into her bed, the sheets tucked up to her chin.

When Peeta enters the room again, his shirt is still unbuttoned and breezes open when he walks. Katniss silently lifts the covers on the bed and he climbs in with a shy smile. They lay, heads on the same pillow, noses almost touching. And when Peeta tentatively leans forward to graze their lips against one another, Katniss happily welcomes it; with each touch of his lips, she can feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, calmness replacing them.

"Feel any better?"

"Much. I'm more tired than I was before, though," she answers him with a yawn.

"Get to sleep, then. I can't stay for long – mother will have a cow if I'm not back at the bakery in a half an hour."

Katniss scoffs, settling her head into the crook of his neck, and Peeta smiles into her hair.

"Peeta?"

"Uh huh?"

"Thank you."

He lovingly kisses her forehead, holding her close as their arms wrap around each other tightly.

"Anything for you, Katniss."

And for now, Katniss relishes in the calm Peeta's brought to her life. Because in the midst of the terror that's running through her veins, the boy with the bread has brought her hope again.


	9. The Reaping

Oh, you guys are breakin' my heart. All of the lovely reviews I got for the last chapter were so very appreciated, and they broke my heart because the fluff is now over and we're right into The Reaping. Which is why I caved and wrote a completely new beginning for this chapter, all fluffiness and cuteness and rainbows and sunshine. I would have written an entire chapter, but it wouldn't really stand on it's own as anything that great.

Also, I've gotten a few messages about you guys getting alerts for a chapter nine of this story yesterday, and there being no chapter nine. That was my fluff, and I'm super sorry about that! I posted chapter nine, realized it wasn't the right version, deleted it and I am now re-posting it! Hope I didn't cause too much confusion! :)

So, without further adieu... yes, it's the reaping time everyone. So sit back, relax and enjoy chapter nine of 'Burning Brighter'! :)

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own_ 'The Hunger Games'_. I never have and I never will.

* * *

He strokes her hair as they lay by the fire, the time ticking away on the big grandfather clock in the corner of her small living room. The rough wool blanket keeps them both warm from the slight chill in the air, and they huddle together as Prim sits at the table with a pad of paper and a pencil, sketching flowers and Buttercup and Lady her goat to bide the time. Mrs. Everdeen works on needlepoint beside her youngest daughter, glancing over her glasses at Katniss and Peeta sitting in front of the fire every once in a while.

The sounds of the crackling flame and pencil to paper are all that is heard in the cozy house, and Peeta digs his nose into the soft hair laying over Katniss' shoulder in nervous contentment. She sighs and leans further back into him, and when she turns her head around to look at him she doesn't protest when he places a soft kiss on her lips. Her eyes widen at the very public display of affection in front of her family, but when Prim giggles and Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head in endearment Katniss relaxes her shoulders and kisses him firmly once more. Prim puts her hand lightly over her mouth to stifle her laughter, and Katniss can only give her a secret wink in return.

The night before The Reaping, Peeta spent it with Katniss and her family, enjoying the calm before the storm.

-

The screens are set up, the speakers are installed, what's left of the decaying Justice Building is meagerly adorned with bright red banners emblazoned with the Seal of Panem.

The stage is set for terror to begin.

Peeta walks with his two brothers, both too old to be eligible, to the Town Square. What a juxtaposition, he muses. Just months ago, this square was alight with dancing and music and celebration; now, the square is alight with a celebration of an entirely different kind.

This is the day of The Reaping.

Peeta follows the motions, separating from his family when he's herded behind weathered old velvet ropes, his blood is drawn and his number is taken down. As soon as he can, he peers over the heads of the other children, searching for her.

He spots Katniss crouched down with Prim, who is visibly shaking. Katniss spots Peeta over the shoulder of a boy from the Seam, and grants him a wavering smile. He tries as best as he can to send her a comforting smile back, anything to ease her muscles just a bit. He wishes he could run to her, comfort her; but any disobedience is strictly frowned upon, with all of Panem watching like this. The Peacekeepers, adorned in their white suits, are lined all around the square. Peeta thinks it almost funny how these people he's known almost his entire life, a few he's even begun to be friends with, are putting on such a gratuitous act.

So Peeta settles for exchanging longing looks with Katniss. To keep his own anxiety from rising and building up, he imagines Katniss the way she was just a week ago; their bodies warm and excited, tangled together in a mess of newness and apprehension and feelings. Her flushed face as she giggles at his ridiculous predicament, the feeling of her hands resting against his chest and weaving through his hair, the way her laugh sounded when his nose tickled the skin just underneath her ear and how she smiled and sighed in complete contentedness just before they fell into a blissful nap, wrapped around each other.

And then he's forced back into the present when Effie Trinket's voice blares through the speakers and shakes him out of his daydreams.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_in your favour!"

Peeta catches Katniss' eyes through the crowd once again, and imitates Effie Trinket's mannerisms, bobbing his head from side to side and waving around with his hands. Katniss cracks a small smile, and lifts her index finger to her lips, miming "shh" to him. He smiles back at her and pretends to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony.

Effie Trinket finishes her speech on stage, then the mayor gets up and makes his long, boring speech about The Dark Days and The Rebellion that brought on The Hunger Games.

Haymitch Abernathy sits in a chair to the side of the mayor and two other district officials, sipping from a silver flask and belching loudly every few minutes. The crowd's attention is fully on Haymitch, a distraction from the orderly flow of the ceremony. Then, everyone's eyes are on Effie Trinket, who's poised between two large glass balls in the center of the stage; her hands lingering above each one, her fingers anxiously moving, ready to pick the fate of a young girl and boy. It makes Peeta cringe, watching how much enjoyment this whole thing brings her.

Then, her right hand is stirring around in one of the glass balls, and everyone in the crowd sucks in an audible breath. Her hand brushes against each individual paper, making sure each name is individually eligible and equally dispersed. Peeta thinks of how many times Katniss' name is in there; not many, for certain. But a few. Peeta isn't stupid, and no matter how many excuses he comes up with for Katniss not to be at the Justice Building on tesserae registry day, he knows she sneaks off every few times to submit her name for a measly package of grain and salt and other bare minimums. His stomach clenches, and he tries his hardest to breathe deeply.

He watches Katniss' expression carefully, how despite her odds of being picked she still stares at Prim worriedly, and wishes they didn't have to be there. That none of them had to be there, ever. Not him, nor Katniss; not Prim, nor Mrs. Everdeen; not even Delly Cartwright or Madge Undersee, who despite her status as the mayor's daughter, is still eligible for the Reaping. No one is spared from this most horrible lottery that The Capitol holds so dear.

Effie Trinket clears her throat into the microphone, making sure everyone is paying attention to her. Then, her hand grasps onto a piece of paper and quickly retrieves it from the bowl. Peeta can feel his stomach turning with each second Effie Trinket draws out, until finally she's standing in front of the microphone, hands poised and ready to seal someone's fate.

She undoes the tape.

Unfolds the paper.

Paints a big smile on her face.

And reads out a name.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Bile rises in Peeta's throat. It rushes through his body, stopping just before he has time to let out a large, painful gasp. Prim steps forward, smooths back the hairs loosened out of her two neat, blonde braids, and tucks her too-large shirt in to her skirt at the back.

There are no sounds other than his ragged breathing, and Prim's tiny footsteps echoing off of the cobblestones. That is, until he can hear a scream, a scream so terrifying, so horrific and so dreadful and frightening that Peeta can't breathe.

"_I volunteer_! _I volunteer as Tribute_!"

Her voice is echoing off of every wall, amplifying it's sound and bouncing back to him as his mind yells, _Don't, Katniss!_

And then Prim is screaming. She pleads to Katniss, grasps onto her arms and shirt and won't let her go, and Peeta rushes through the crowd and grabs Prim, pulling her away from Katniss. He locks eyes with her, and he sees fear. A kind of fear that can't be placed on any one thing, can't be explained by any one cause. Her tears are soaking into his shirt, and she screams for Katniss even when he she walks up the steps and is greeted by Effie Trinket, and even when he carries her over to her side of the town square.

She's not the only one screaming for Katniss, though. He is, too. The tears that stream down his face as he forces himself to the front of the crowd are screaming her name, too. As he watches her speak, seeming so brave, his mind screams her name. He screams for her, with her, with Prim, for how the odds were never in their favour.

Then, one by one, the crowd brings their hands up to their mouths, kissing three of their fingers and raising them towards Katniss; saying thank you. Saying _be brave. _Saying goodbye. And Peeta can't bring himself to say goodbye to her, so he just stands there, staring at her as she stares at him. Knowing he cannot, will not, won't, _refuses to _ever say goodbye to Katniss.

His name could have been called next, for all he knew. He couldn't tell. His ears were completely closed up.

The boy that rises to take the stage next to Katniss is crying, too. Peeta recognizes him from school, and can't look at him anymore when he realizes that if it meant Katniss returning to him, he would accept the young boy's death over her's.

And then it's all over, and Effie Trinket is clapping her hands and jumping up and down with excitement.

"... And remember... may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Katniss is brought into the Justice Building along with the other boy, and everyone begins to make their way back home. But Peeta stays where he is, and is soon joined by Katniss' mother, Prim, Gale, Peeta's father and even Madge Undersee.

Without a word, they're all rushed into the Justice Building as well, and placed in a large room with big windows and plush couches. Peeta doesn't pay any attention to them, and instead looks around the room for any sign of Katniss. He can feel his breathing becoming more and more uneven. He paces and paces and doesn't sit once. And while Mrs. Everdeen and Prim huddle together on the couch and Gale and Madge stand by the window, Gale with his hand on his chin, Peeta's father comes over to him and places a hand on his shoulder.

They file into the room, one by one, and each person comes out crying. Even Gale and his father come out rubbing at their red-rimmed eyes. And then Peeta is the only one left in the large room, and even though it's huge and he has more than enough room to breathe, Peeta feels almost claustrophobic. A Peacekeeper comes to retrieve him and lead him through a doorway into a smaller room.

And there stands Katniss, a box from his family's bakery on the couch nearest her and something small and gold glinting against the light coming in through the windows.

When the door closes, Katniss' head snaps up and the tears begin to pool in her eyes. Before she can even say one word, Peeta is across the room, wrapping his arms so tightly around her he's sure it must be hurting her. And her arms wrap around him, so tightly that he almost can't breathe.

"Oh, Peeta," she cries, and all he can think is _why her_? "My sweet Peeta... I'm so, so sorry..."

"No... Katniss, no. Don't be... please don't be sorry..."

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and begins running his hands up and down her back and kissing the top of her head, the sides of her forehead, anywhere his lips can touch, the only thing he can think of to possibly calm her down. And she wraps her arms tight around his waist, pressing her head into his chest and resting her ear right above where his heart beats in his chest for her; always and only for her.

"Katniss, listen to me, please. You are coming back home, I know you are. But when you're out there -"

"No, I'm not Peeta."

"... don't let them change you. You can't, because -"

"I'm not coming back, Peeta."

"... but they don't know how strong you are. You can fight back, you won't -"

"Peeta, would you shut up for a second and listen to me! _I'm not coming back_. There's no possible way I am going to beat twenty-three other people, half of which have been training their entire lives for this, and come out alive. I'm done for, the second I step out there. _I'm done_."

Peeta can only stare at her for several long moments. And then his face is contorting into something angry and baleful, and he can't stop the outpouring of words thundering against the walls of the room and reverberating back to them.

"_Are you kidding me_? You think you won't make it out? You think you're not _strong enough_? Katniss, I know you rarely listen to my advice because you're so strong-headed and think you're always right, but this time you are more wrong than you have ever been. You're the strongest person I know. You're not only strong, but you're intelligent and you're cunning, and most importantly, you've got something none of those other Tributes will even be able to touch... you've got _spirit_."

The threat of tears are imminent on both of their faces, brimming at the edges of their eyelids as Peeta pours his heart out to his ill-begotten Katniss.

"You're _dauntless_, Katniss. Your resolution, your vitality, your resolve, your _determination _is what sets you apart; and you can't let them take that away from you. Sure, everyone can learn how to run five miles without breaking a sweat, or throw a knife and use a sword and _even how to shoot a bow and arrow_– but no one can be taught how to have spirit."

Katniss nods against the steady stream of tears flowing down her face, straightens her shoulders and raises her chin, showing Peeta with all the world that she won't let him down, not now, not ever. And he nods as well, proud of her fight and her drive, and he knows that no matter how terrified he is for her, no matter how terrified he is that she won't come back to him, she will fight with everything in her.

Feeling time heavy on their shoulders, only a second more is wasted before they embrace each other tightly once more. Words make their way up Peeta's throat and tickle at the tip of his tongue, and he can't stop them if he tries.

"I love you, Katniss Everdeen. _I'm in love with you_."

Katniss' breath hitches and her shoulders go rigid as she pulls away from him just enough to look into his endless blue eyes; and she can feel herself blissfully swimming in the depths of his brilliant cobalt irises as the words tumble out almost easily.

"I love you, too,_ Peeta Mellark_. How I love you, you silly boy..."

Their lips meet and meld together into a cacophony of desperation and pressure and determination, but also... they speak of hope. The strong hope that is sealed with a kiss, and broken with the promise of more to come.

"I need you to come home, Katniss. Promise me that you will."

"You have me, Peeta, always and forever. And I promise I will come home to you, no matter what it takes."

A chill runs down her spine, and she can feel him shiver as well as the thought of what she just might have to do settles into their bones. The door slams open and a Peacekeeper comes in, his red hair flopping carelessly into his eyes underneath the clear plastic of his helmet.

Darius sneaks them a small smile as he nods his head over his shoulder, silently letting them know that their time has come to a close. They stare at each other, wide-eyed and almost completely forgetting the hope and power they had felt just moments before as they embrace once again and kiss desperately, long enough for Darius to clear his throat and place a heavy hand on Peeta's shoulder.

"I love you... _I love you_!" Peeta yells as he is taken out of the room, all the times he lacked to say it heavy with regret in the pit of his stomach.

She's yelling it back to him, "_I love you, too... I promise you I'll come back_!" as she catches one last glimpse of his face, his strong jaw, his summer-blonde hair, his bright blue eyes, before the door shuts and Katniss shakily settles herself onto the couch. The smell of something sweet teases her nose, and her eyes well up with tears as she notices once again the box beside her, "Mellark Bakery" printed in elegant script across the top of the box. And then she's clutching it on her lap, her hands bending the thin cardboard on the sides as she cries over it, a token of him in her hands as she holds onto it.

"I promise you, Peeta," she says, as if it's who she's speaking of and he can hear what she's saying. "I'm going to come home to you."


	10. The Girl on Fire

As you probably realize, I've been on a little bit of a hiatus. I posted chapter 10 a few weeks ago to... not so great reviews. In fact, every other review and private message I received after I posted the chapter were about how you wanted me to kill Owyn off asap!

Just as a reminder to ya'll, this is a Katniss and Peeta story. If I was writing a Katniss and Owyn story, I would have categorized it as "Katniss and OC"... but it's not a Katniss and Owyn story, and I don't intend for it to be. Besides, Katwyn and Owniss... not as catchy as Everlark! :)

I would like to say though, that if you've read '_Mockingjay_', I'm sure there are things about it that upset you; but ultimately, the book tied together and came to a neat conclusion. Not everyone is going to agree with everything an author writes, and I get the reception you guys initially had to this chapter. But please do realize that while I take all of your suggestions into a lot of consideration, sometimes even re-writing whole parts of a chapter, I am kinda one writing this. It'll all work together, I promise! Suzanne Collins, I am not, and I love me a happy ending. :)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter more this time around than you did before.

**Disclaimer: I don't own '_The Hunger Games_'.**

* * *

"Oh, how heartbreaking! Look how her sister clings to her... such love, such _emotion_!"

I grind my teeth as I stare at the too-big television screen in front of me. Curled up on the couch beside Effie Trinket, a drunken Haymitch Abernathy on full display in the arm chair to my right, I feel so out of place. Beneath the luxurious clothing and sitting atop the expensive furniture, my skin still feels itchy with discomfort.

My fellow Tribute sits two cushions down from me, Effie conveniently separating us – or more likely, separating _me _from _him; _Owyn MacArthur, male Tribute of District 12.

Within the first few hours of us meeting, Owyn took it upon himself to assume he was the leader of our "team". Stepping foot onto the train, he had roughly wiped the remaining tears from his face and grasped my arm, marching us over to Haymitch rifling through the cabinets in search of his liquor. I had wrenched my arm out of his grasp and fixed him with a hard stare in warning. He gave me no second glance before shutting the cabinet roughly in our trusted mentor's face and snatching a tall crystal bottle out of his grasp, holding it behind him and demanding answers from Haymitch that frankly, he was in no mind to give. I watched the following scene play out in slight amusement, from Haymitch roughly shoving the freckle-faced boy against the wall to the liquor bottle dropping from his hand in the midst of his surprise.

"Don't threaten a Victor," I had mumbled, watching Haymitch's slouched over form stalking away from us.

"Shut up, Everdeen. I was trying to _help _us," Owyn had ground out, brushing invisible dirt from the front of his now-rumpled button down. It was pale blue, and had a striking similarity to another button down I had been up close with just a week before-hand...

I swallowed hard and steeled my shoulders, pushing thoughts of District 12 from my mind... for the time being. I would sulk later in the stifling privacy of the room provided to me on the train.

"You were trying to help _us_? I don't need your help, _MacArthur_. If you haven't noticed where we are and what we're bound to do within weeks time, I think it's time you do. We're not here to help each other."

I turned on my heel then, wanting nothing more than to forgo the planned dinner and instead ruminate with a box of cakes and cheese buns on my own; but Owyn MacArthur hated to be ignored or belittled, and the grasp he once again had on my arm sent me flying backward and face-to-face with his squinted green eyes.

In the shock of the moment and of pure instinct, my hand flew out and grasped the broken bottleneck of Haymitch's liquor bottle. Before I knew what I was doing, I had Owyn against the wall once more, the sharp ridges of the bottle pressing into the skin of his neck.

"If you dare lay your hand on me one more time, you'll find this bottle-"

"Ms. Everdeen, _do _tell me what you think you're doing!"

The bottleneck fell with a _clang_against the hardwood floors of the train and I whirled around to find Effie Trinket with her hands in fists at her sides, her skin bright red under layers of makeup. Haymitch stood with a flask to his mouth and a smirk he could barely hide behind it.

"He was... I was just... _he wouldn't let me go-_"

"Enough!" Effie's shrill voice yells, and I flinch under the falsetto tone of it. "To your quarters, Ms. Everdeen! I will fetch you when dinner is served!"

"But-"

"_To your quarters, Ms. Everdeen_!"

When Effie had come to bring me to dinner, her demeanour had been pleasant and welcoming once again. The meal had been a tentative affair, but all was pushed from my mind when I had the first taste of a savoury stew with meat and rice and a rich gravy that made me salivate with each bite I took. After the meal, we sat down to watch the recap of the reaping.

When a tell-tale head of hair came into the view of the cameras, I felt my heart hammer in my chest and ache with longing. All I wanted was to replay the scene over and over until the very moment I was to enter the arena, the memory of his face and his words as we parted at the Justice Building still fresh in my mind's eye. I swallowed hard, and picked at the edges of my nails as my hands lay in my lap. The piercing sound of Prim screaming on the television was on an almost constant loop, background noise to Caesar Flickerman's commentary on the braveness of me volunteering to take my sister's place in The Games.

Owyn's name was drawn next, and I could see him shudder from the corner of my eye as he took the stage on the television, tears steadily streaming down his pixelated face.

"Owyn MacArthur, District 12's Male Tribute, makes up the last of the Tributes to participate in the 74th Annual Hunger Games! How exciting! Join us tomorrow for more festivities leading up to The Games, including the arrival of our Tributes to The Capitol. Signing off, this is Caesar Flickerman!"

The outro music played Caesar out, and Effie turned the television off with an excited clap of her hands.

"Well, we should be getting to bed now! Tomorrow is a big, big, big day!"

I ground my teeth and made my way to my room, roughly shoving past Owyn on my way out. I could hear his irritated sigh and I smirked, closing my door behind me and scurrying over to the bed, throwing back the covers, settling in and bringing the bakery shop box onto my lap.

I reverently stroked the elegant script on the top reading 'Mellark Bakery' and opened it, gingerly picking up the first thing I lay eyes on – a delicate cupcake, adorned with small silver decorative candies and perfectly piped frosting daisies. I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay, almost putting the cupcake back into the box. The things Peeta made were almost too pretty to eat, but they were just as delicious as they were beautiful and I could never resist the baked goods he gave me.

And there it was. I had said his name for the first time since I last saw him... well, I hadn't said it aloud, but I had spoken it to myself and it was almost the same thing. It felt like every time I said his name, it made me feel both worse and more comforted; almost like saying his name too much or too loudly would make it lose it's magic, but not saying it at all was like holding your breath and not allowing yourself to breathe in air.

On my first night of being a Tribute in The Hunger Games, I lay awake in bed and thought of Peeta Mellark.

* * *

Surprisingly, the worst part of my journey thus far had been in the prep room; however, it had also been the best. There I met Cinna, my wonderful, creatively genius stylist; he was the only ray of light I had in The Capitol, this cold place with bright lights and silver buildings reaching so far up into the clouds, my neck couldn't crane far enough back to see the top of them.

If it were any other occasion I were in The Capitol for, I would be in awe and wonderment of the steel structures and neon colours that adorned every lamp post and street sign; however, my deed here held nothing less than utter resentment.

Tonight was our interviews, shown across the nation of Panem live, broadcasting my fears and anxieties on the television screen of every citizen of our fine, fair country. As Cinna and his team fluttered around me, fixing my hair and priming my face to perfection, I picked at the bright red nail varnish on my fingernails and sorted my jumbled thoughts and words into something hopefully a little more coherent. My head was spinning with the revelations of the day, and annoyance bubbled in my stomach as I thought about everything.

Earlier this morning at breakfast, Haymitch and Effie had sat down with calm looks on their faces, studying Owyn and I carefully. I was just about to ask if I had something on my face when Haymitch cleared his throat and spoke in a level voice, chewing around a breakfast sausage.

"We're going to have to talk about your interviews later today."

I rolled my eyes and focused on my plate, shuffling golden potatoes and salty strips of pork around it.

"Sure... what did you have planned?" Owyn asked, taking a large sip of his orange juice. He looked at me sideways, and I glowered at him from behind my curtain of fragrant-smelling hair. The showers in The Capitol were strange things, and I still had yet to fully figure them out.

"Well... we thought we'd start with setting up a little back story for the two of you. Something for the audience to get behind..."

"Okay...," Owyn drawled, not quite getting the cautious tone of Haymitch's voice. But I was piecing things together quickly, and from how Effie was looking me up and down in an almost calculating way, I knew this had to be something both Owyn and I wouldn't take lightly.

"And there's nothing more The Capitol audiences love more than a good story... a comedy, or a drama, or an action... or a romance."

"A _what_?!" Owyn and I both said in unison, me speaking up for the first time since last night. Haymitch fixed me with a hard stare. I knew well enough to listen when he gave me a look like that, and I grudgingly dropped my fork to my plate with a loud _clang_.

"Now just wait a second, hear me out! We need to get the both of you sponsors. They start picking who they'll get behind the moment you step foot off the train, and so far, neither of you have made sparkling impressions. The way they see it, Owyn is a handsome, naive boy and Katniss is a tough, frigid girl – neither of which evokes excitement in the audiences..."

"I don't care about their excitement or entertainment, I don't -"

"Of course you don't, kid, because you're not thinking of what it's going to be like in the arena yet are you, MacArthur? Because when you get in there and you really, desperately need something like water or food but there's none to be found, who's going to give it to you?" There was silence as we both stared at Haymitch with tense expressions on our faces. "Anyone? _Anyone_? That's right, _the audience_. They have the power to take you to the finish line if they're really behind you."

Haymitch was probably right. I flipped through my memories of past Games and Victors, and remember distinctly the year when Finnick Odair from District 4 won the Games; he was a young, handsome boy with a charming personality – so charming, in fact, that instead of losing weight in the arena, I was almost certain he had _gained _weight from the amount of gifts he was getting in there.

I grit my teeth and listened to Haymitch's reasoning, already coming up with a million excuses.

What if the audience didn't buy it?

What if they knew we were lying?

What if they didn't know we were lying, and believed in the whole thing?

_What would happen if I had to be the one to kill him_?

I shivered at the thought and cleared my throat, all the attention being focused on me.

"I don't think we should do it."

"Exactly!" Owyn griped, nodding at me from across the table.

"You finally agree on something, and it's to neither of your benefit. Ridiculous," Haymitch grounds out, throwing his napkin onto the table.

"There are too many what-if's. Maybe you're wrong, and they'll hate it," Owyn reasons, and for the first time ever I'm inclined to agree with him.

I sit up, now fully engaged in this very odd conversation about my personal life... a personal life that I hadn't even known I had until a few months ago. My stomach churns at the thought of Peeta, and I regretfully push away my plate of food.

"You can't tell how the audience is going to react," I say, crossing my arms on my chest. "It could hurt us instead of help us."

"To be quite honest, Ms. Everdeen, I'm not too sure we'll have the opportunity to do much else for your image before you're both thrown into an arena to slaughter and be slaughtered in one _very _short week. So, if you're ever thinking of getting home to your _real _boy, and if Owyn ever wants to get back to his own little lady, you will _do as I say_."

I recoil as if I've been slapped, both from Haymitch's harsh words and the knowledge that he's aware of Peeta and I. An image of a haggard man sitting in an old wooden chair with a drink in his hand, tapping his foot to music comes to the forefront of my mind. The Harvest Dance. Of course.

Looking over at Owyn to reiterate my point, I instead find his green eyes downcast, his jaw clenched and his countenance steely. I think back to what Haymitch said... '_his own little lady_'. I hadn't even known Owyn was involved with anyone. The thought makes me shiver, and I try not to think of the countless people back in every Tribute's District that my future actions could affect.

But if I ever want to get back to '_my boy'_... my Peeta...

"I'll do it."

I look up, shocked. It's Owyn that's said this, and the look on his face is so determined that even if I hadn't wholeheartedly agreed beforehand, I would be inclined to now.

"Me too," I agree, nodding. Owyn and I avoid each other's eyes, the reality of our situation slowly creeping upon us. If it were between the other and getting home to our families, there wouldn't be a second thought before we went after each other.

Haymitch's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, trying for surprise but really just coming off cocky and chagrined, and I roll my eyes. He knew we would agree all along didn't he? I tell him as much.

"I'm more clever than you give me credit for, sweetheart. Would I be sitting here right now if I wasn't?"

"Can we focus already? What exactly does this whole charade entail?" Owyn says, leaning his forearms on the table. Effie 'tsk's at the action, and since it's the first thing that's got her to react this entire conversation I mirror Owyn's posture with a sarcastic smile.

Effie sighs dramatically and looks away with a shake of her head, sipping from her long-stemmed glass. Haymitch snorts and then quickly gets back to business.

"Here's the story, mornin' glory," he drawls. "Forbidden love affair. It covers up any slip-ups from your family and... _friends_," giving us both pointed looks, he continues, "high-class boy, low-class girl, and so on and so forth."

I grimace, and Haymitch catches the action out of the corner of his eye.

"For your part, the sun rises and sets with this boy... scrawny and awkward as he may be."

I snort loudly and Owyn yells out an indignant 'hey!' Could I really do this? The doubt was seeping in quickly, overriding the determination I had settled within myself.

"And MacArthur, she's the greatest thing since they learned how to slice bread."

_Bread_. _Bakers_. _Sunshine hair_. _Sky blue eyes_... a_nd those eyes filled with tears the last time I saw him_.

Of course I could do this. I had to, there was no other choice. There were so many reasons to fight for my life harder than I ever had before, and I intended to do just that.

* * *

I had almost bitten my bottom lip raw by the time Cinna snapped me back to reality and had me in my dress for the interviews.

"What do you think?" he smiled warmly, turning me towards a full-length mirror on the wall across from us.

I stared at the girl in the mirror in surprise, from the top of her elegant hairstyle to the shimmering flame-red dress and to the flowing hemline that reached the floor. It tied right in to my costume in the Tribute's Parade – where it had been a full-on flame, this was like a rolling inferno, and it was absolutely perfect.

I wasn't merely stunning... I was on fire.

* * *

"Now Owyn, I'm curious to know... how do you feel about your fellow District partner, Katniss Everdeen? The pair of you were _on fire_last night!" Caesar Flickerman joked, turning to the audience with a winning smile and a boisterous laugh.

"Katniss, she's... well, she's something alright. You could say she's something of a _spitfire_," Owyn winked back, and the crowd erupted in laughter at his charming banter.

Owyn's stylists had made him look dapper for the interviews, with his ashy brown hair styled to perfection, the sides short and tailored and the top just the right amount of dishevelled. His suit was ebony black, all except for a tie that started out as an orange-red near the top and trailed down to the licking of flames at the bottom. The same artificial fire that adorned our parade costumes was used on his tie, and the light they created warmed his complexion and made him appear welcoming and debonair.

I studied him carefully, taking note of his posture and his mannerisms so I could hope to pull off my feat.

_Lies, lies, lies_.

My stomach sank at the thought of Peeta, watching me talk about how in love I was with another man. I swallowed hard, thinking about Gale watching me tell lie after lie. I hoped against hope they didn't believe I was just another pawn in their games. The thought of the disappointment they would have towards me was almost enough to urge me to abandon the entire plan, but we were in much too deep now. There was no turning back.

"It seems as if you have a little bit of a crush on Miss Everdeen, Owyn," Caesar Flickerman says, sending a scandalized look to the audience, who gasps and murmurs amongst themselves for a moment before focusing on the stage.

"Much more than just a simple crush, Caesar... _I'm in love with Katniss_."

And there it was. Gasping, gaping mouths, apprehensive looks and me, blown up on a large screen to the side of the stage. The nervousness on my features was very real, but played off entirely the opposite to the crowd.

"_In love _with her? Does she know this?" Caesar asked, turning around in his chair to look at me. I struggled to keep my expression even, the rolling of my stomach spurred on by nerves.

"Yes, she does. We've been in love for quite some time now, Caesar. What would you say, Katniss, nearly... two years?" Owyn asked, gazing at me from his seat on the stage.

All I could manage was to nod, only able to respond to simple yes or no questions; I was much too preoccupied with rehearsing the responses Effie and I had worked on all this morning.

"We're trying to make the most of the situation we're in, Caesar. But it's difficult to ignore the constant thought of losing her," he frowned. Caesar patted Owyn on the back, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "We're going to enjoy all the wonderful things The Capitol has to offer before we get into the arena, though. From there... who knows?"

The crowd murmured excitedly. There had never been two Tributes that were romantically involved from what I could remember, and this was definitely something for the audience to talk about.

"Well, this is quite the development!" Caesar said as the buzzer went off to announce the end of Owyn's interview. The crowd made a discontented sound as Caesar and Owyn shook hands, both men turning towards them. "Don't be so glum! We have Katniss Everdeen herself next."

The crowd erupted in cheers as I stood from my chair and made my way up to the stage. As Owyn walked by me, he very conspicuously ran his hand along my arm and grasped my hand, giving it a light kiss.

_Just like we practised_.

So far, every moment was going off without much incident. It was all on me now to complete our charade, everything set up perfectly to pull this whole thing off. I swallowed hard, stepping up on stage and squinting as the lights hit my eyes. I could barely see the audience, and I was glad for it.

I took a seat next to Caesar, answering a few questions about how I was enjoying The Capitol so far and what my favourite things had been. I answered with an excited tone to my voice, trying to seem as pleasant as I could when all I could feel was hatred – of the stage I sat on, of the words coming from my mouth – especially the words coming from my mouth, the lies I told being broadcast directly to District 12 and straight to the listening ears of my family, my friends, and my _best _friend.

"So, Katniss. A little bird told me you and your District partner are... involved?" Caesar joked, sneaking a glance at the crowd.

"Well, yes... but I have to say, I was nervous about him telling you."

"And why is that?"

"Because our families and friends back in District 12 had no idea we were so... _involved _with each other, as you put it."

"They didn't know?" Caesar asked, the audience gasping, scandalized at the new information they were receiving about Owyn and I.

"No, not at all. You see, I come from the lower-class of District 12, and Owyn comes from the upper-class... our families would never allow us to be with each other. So in a roundabout way, being picked in The Reaping was quite lucky for us. At least we have this together in such a wonderful place as The Capitol before we have to battle against each other in the arena."

The group erupted in sympathetic cheers, outraged at the predicament we were in. Little did they know that my words were as rehearsed as the orchestrated turn of the cameras and timing of the music during each entrance of a Tribute. I swallowed against the bile bubbling at the bottom of my throat, and tried to play it off as being upset over our situation.

"That's quite the pickle you two have yourselves in, isn't it?" Caesar asked.

"It is, yes."

"How did you ever manage to be with each other back home in District 12?"

This question, I wasn't expecting. But with a flash of realization, I recognized that this was my opportunity to make things right. My mother, Prim and Peeta were sure to be watching, the interviews being a mandatory event. I cleared my throat before I spoke, wanting to make this as clear as possible.

"We would see each other at school, of course. We've been friends for a very long time, but no one ever suspected we would feel more for each other." I look down at my hands in concentration, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Our first kiss was at the annual Harvest Dance in our District, and we had to sneak away from our parents and siblings to be alone."

The audience laughs at that, and 'ooh's and 'ahh's, and I smile wistfully at their reactions. The boy I spoke about wasn't the one sitting off to my right, a bewildered expression on his face. He wasn't even in the room, or anywhere near the Capitol at all. He was back home in District 12, keeping a hold of my heart as I fought my way back to him.

"I would do anything for him... even go to his house before school started to make sure he wasn't late."

Caesar lets out a boisterous laugh, and I see Owyn laughing nervously out of the corner of my eye, not doing a very good job of hiding his confusion at my actions. I narrow my eyes at him in warning, and he fixes his expression quickly.

"It sounds like you really do care for him, Katniss." And when Caesar says that, he looks at me pointedly with this knowing expression on his face, like somehow he gets it. And I'm not frightened by it; on the contrary, I start to think that maybe not all the people of the Capitol are bad.

"Yes. I love him, very much. I love him."

The crowd lets out a collective sigh, and I swallow hard against the uncertain feeling in my stomach.

"Well," Caesar clears his throat and we're back to the reality of the situation. "If Owyn doesn't mind me saying, you look positively lovely tonight!" The screens show a shot of Owyn nodding in agreement, a charming smile on his face. "Doesn't she look beautiful tonight everyone?"

The crowd erupts in cheers, and Caesar stands up, holding out his hand to grab to help me up from the chair myself. I stand apprehensively, looking over to the side in search of Cinna. I see him on the second row up from where the Tributes are sitting, and his white teeth show as he smiles encouragingly at me.

"I have to give all the credit to my brilliant stylist, Cinna!" I smile back brilliantly, the words not at all a lie. The screen focused on Cinna, who stood and bowed gratefully to the cheering crowd. As he sat back down and the cameras focused on me once again, my face dropped, realizing I now had nothing more to say to Caesar and the crowd, all of the rehearsed topics of conversation now being spoken about.

I look at Cinna again, and I see him lift his finger and move it in a twirling motion. I'm confused for a minute, but trust him not to give me wrong directions.

"And look how lovely it looks when I spin around in it," I say nervously, my voice slightly wavering. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and start spinning, only opening them when I hear the incredibly loud cheering of the audience. Looking down, I see the entire bottom of my dress engulfed in flames. I can't feel the heat of a real flame at all, and calm down once I realize this is another one of Cinna's brilliant uses of the artificial flames he had adorned my parade costume with. I keep spinning until I can't spin anymore, and Caesar reaches out and steadies me with an astonished laugh.

I look out to the audience dizzily, seeing all of them up on their feet and clapping at my outrageous dress.

"Lovely, indeed! How incredible those artificial flames are! I sense a new trend hitting the stores soon, would you all agree?" Caesar asks the crowd. They cheer uproariously as the buzzer goes off, signalling the end of my interview. I breath a sigh of relief while the audience makes sounds of discontent. Caesar grasps my hand and lifts it above our heads, bowing down towards me.

Everyone's eyes are on me, and I swallow against the feeling of panic rising in my stomach. Now is not the time to sink deep into myself like I did almost every night on the train, lost in the thoughts of what I left behind in District 12. Now is the time to start fighting, even before I step foot into the Cornucopia. Because the battle has already begun, and I intend to win.

"Let's have a round of applause once again for Katniss Everdeen, _the girl on fire_!"

* * *

"That was wonderful!" Effie bubbled excitedly, clapping her hands as we walked through the elevator doors and into our floor of the lavish Capitol apartment building we were staying in. "Absolutely wonderful!"

"You did good, kid," Haymitch gruffly said, placing a calloused hand on my shoulder and granting me a small smirk.

I reply with a simple nod, running through the entire experience in my head. I can feel myself shaking slightly and know that I need to calm down.

Owyn walked beside me as we made our way to the large dining room for dinner, his shoulder bumping into mine intentionally before we sat down.

"That was... good, Everdeen. You were pretty believable up there," he said, nodding at me.

"You too, MacArthur."

In that moment, there were no puns or looks of annoyance between us; only a silent camaraderie, an agreement of sorts. We were both in such similar situations, both so utterly lost and apprehensive. I suppose the reason we disagreed at all was because we had such similarities between us and such hard-headed opinions on everything; we both lacked the tact to see those glaring similarities.

Loathe as I was to say it, Owyn MacArthur and I had become quite the team – albeit argumentative and absolutely stubborn, we had come to an understanding. It reminded me a little of Gale and I, the coarse friendship we had come to understand during our hunting time in the forest.

With training starting the next day, it was nearly impossible not to be clumped together as a team... especially after our interviews.

At dinner that night, I thought about how much had been rapidly changing from the minute I stepped foot onto the train to now in The Capitol. Outwardly, almost everything had changed but inwardly, barely anything had.

I ate in contemplative silence; thinking, of course, of Peeta. Would he understand what I meant in the interviews? There was no other way to get a message to him without compromising the tentative charade Haymitch, Owyn and I had somehow managed to pull off. I nearly ached for him, inwardly chastising myself for taking the time I had with him before the Reaping for granted.

I had made a promise to both Peeta and Prim that I would come back to them, and I didn't intend on going back on those promises any time soon.


End file.
